


Just Say No to GMOs

by JustGettingBy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Ethics, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Slice of Life, Support, debates, gmo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustGettingBy/pseuds/JustGettingBy
Summary: Peter sees a group protesting genetically modified organisms. An identity crisis follows.





	1. Chapter 1

It was the best kind of day. It was early April, the start of their spring break. After weeks of unseasonably cold weather, the blue sky finally broke through the persistent layer of grey clouds. Peter smiled as he felt the heat of the sun against his skin. It was the first time he felt warm, actually hot, in months. All winter he had wrapped himself under several layers of thick, itchy sweaters, courtesy of May’s great-aunt Ruth, who lived in England. She sent him a new ‘jumper’ each Christmas, but this was the first year Peter had taken to wearing them. With his new metabolism, Peter thought he would’ve been running a tad hotter than he had been in the past, but that did not seem to be the case. He privately wondered if it had anything to do with the bite. After all, not everything that came with it could be really freaking amazing superpowers.

  
  


He took another sip of his milkshake. It was surprisingly good - if a little chalky. He didn’t really believe MJ when she told him vegan milkshakes could be just as good as the normal ones. She smirked at Peter, “Told you they’re good.”

 

Peter screwed up his face in mock disgust. “I don’t know what you mean. It’s literally inedible.” He took another long sip. “I’m doing this to save the rest of the world from how awful it is.”

 

She rolled her eyes, but still cracked a smile. Peter counted that as a win. 

 

“I could drink it if you don’t want it,” Ned offered. 

 

Peter shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t let you do that. It’s too disgusting,” he said. He swirled around the cup and drank some more. 

 

MJ crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow at Peter. “Always with the hero’s complex,” she said and walked ahead. Peter shot a look at Ned, who shrugged. “Come on,” she called back to the boys, “we need to hurry if we want to actually get what we need from the Department of Records.” She walked ahead, her dark bag slung over her shoulder and didn’t look back. Peter wished he could just spend the day soaking in the spring sun, but MJ was right. As usual. They needed the records if they actually wanted to finish their history project on time. 

 

Peter thought it should count as cruel and unusual punishment to assign homework over the break.  _ Especially _ when it was a group project that required actual, real-life research. Their history teacher, Mr. Cobbwell, told them it would be good practice for college and it would be a chance to bring the history of the city to life. He was always really big on the whole ‘bring history to life’ thing. 

 

At least they were allowed to pick their groups. Working with Ned and MJ felt a lot less like work. They made a day out of their project and explored some of lower Manhattan, checking out Ned’s favourite comic book store and that vegan cafe MJ raved about. It made Peter feel like  _ Peter  _ again. Most of the time he saw the city from twenty storeys high, swinging through the concrete jungle and stopping only in dark alleys. In his not-on-purpose ripped jeans and ‘actually it is rocket science’ NASA shirt, the city felt different. All the little stores, the street-art, the whole  _ character _ of the city just popped to life. And as MJ pointed out, they need to see the city now if they wanted to understand how it changed. 

 

MJ, Peter ruefully admitted, was a lowkey genius. She was never the in-your-face kind of person that showed off her intelligence whenever she had the chance. Not that Peter had ever thought she  _ wasn’t  _ smart, he just hadn’t realized how brilliant she actually was. The moment she pitched the name for their project, Peter knew how much he had been underestimating her.  _ The Real Immigrant Housewives of New York _ would just be amazing. Most groups only wanted to focus on the lives of a few individuals coming to New York, and Peter’s first idea was to do a project on Captain America. Three other groups in the class had the same idea. MJ just thought differently than anyone Peter had ever met. She had some angle for each project that no one else would consider, and it would turn out absolutely brilliant.

 

So there were worse places he could be on his spring break than heading to the Department of Records with Ned and MJ. It might not have been his first choice - he would love a day just to play some video games and sling some webs. But it definitely wasn’t the worst thing in his life. 

 

MJ walked ahead. Peter and Ned trailed behind. They were close to the record hall now, just passing the City Hall. Peter could see a throng of people gathered outside the steps, shouting and waving signs. “What’s that all about?” He gestured to the group with his thumb.

 

Ned peered over too. “Looks like some sort of protest.”

 

MJ shrugged. “There’s almost always some sort of protest going on. What’s today, the fifth?” Peter and Ned nodded. “I think there was supposed to be one in support of banning GMOs.” She kept walking forward towards to record hall. 

 

Peter stopped and stared at the protest. “People really protest GMOs? But they’re just - they’re just  _ food!  _ Why would anyone protest food?”

 

“It’s more complicated than that,” MJ said. She stopped now and shrugged at Peter. “It’s not really a good or evil type debate, you know?”

 

Peter nodded and swallowed. “I didn't know,” he said and walked towards his friends with his head turned back at the protest. 

  
  


\---

 

That night, Peter sat at his desk and tried to write his portion of the report. He just couldn’t seem to get into the flow of it, though. It was physically hurt a little bit; every sentence he wrote killed him a little bit. It wasn’t the project that was the problem, though. HIs heart just wasn’t in it. 

He couldn’t shake that GMO protest. It just gnawed at the sides of his brain, seeping into his every thought. He had learned, briefly, about GMOs in a biology class last year, but he never put too much thought into it. He hadn’t realized that people would actually think that it was  _ wrong _ . 

 

After all, there wasn’t anything that was, like, inherently bad about GMOs… right? Peter twirled his pencil around his fingers and stared out the window. He sighed, dropped his pencil on his desk, and leaned back in his chair. He couldn’t work like this. 

 

Peter cracked open his laptop and typed ‘GMO’ into the search bar. A slew of results popped up on his screen. The second result was for the Non-GMO project. Peter gulped and scrolled through the page, reading a variety of concerns about GMOs. It seemed they caused everything from cancer to environmental damage. 

 

While Peter was fairly sure he wasn’t causing flooding or ruining crops. But the health risks… The truth was he didn’t actually know much about what the spider bite had done to his body. Right now, he felt fantastic. But in ten years? Twenty? He really didn’t know how long his new-found health would last. 

 

And that was just  _ his  _ health. What if he was toxic? Or what if he gave off radiation? Like the blue dude from that old comic  _ Watchmen.  _ Okay, okay, Doctor Manhattan didn’t  _ really _ give everyone he ever cared about cancer, but the fear was still valid. 

 

So Peter did what any teenager having an existential crisis would do - he pulled out his phone and dialed Tony Stark. 

 

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

 

“It’s only nine and I don’t have school tomorrow.”

 

“Yeesh, kid. It’s called a joke. What’s up?” Mr. Stark said. 

 

Peter paused for a minute and spun around in his desk chair. “Uh, yeah. So I was just working on a school project and I hit a bit of wall.”

 

“Again? Give me your location and I can get a med team -”

 

“No, no, I didn’t  _ literally  _ hit a wall. Not this time, at least. I just was working on this project all day, and it’s due first class on Monday, and I think my brain turned off.”

 

“And you’re calling me because?”

 

“Well, I was kinda hoping you could send me Stark Industries research on GMOs? It would really help me finish my project. Get an A and all that.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. The research might not be  _ for  _ the project, but it would help him finish it. 

 

“You called me for homework help?”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

Tony sighed and didn’t speak. 

 

“Have I told you how much I appreciate you, Mr. Stark?” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, kid. FRIDAY  is sending them over now. This is your one ‘get out of jail free’ card.” 

 

“Ah, thank you, Mr. Stark. You rock. Really, you’re the best and I totally owe you one and -”

 

“If it keeps May off my back, it’s worth it.”

 

“Probably” Peter laughed, “I’ve never seen her that angry before. I actually thought that vein in her forehead was going to explode.”

 

“Goodnight Peter.” Tony wasn’t laughing.

 

“Night!”

 

Peter opened his email to find that, true to his word, Mr. Stark had sent over a massive file. He knew that Stark Industries did a ton of scientific research, but there were thousands of reports, memos, and data. Peter figured he’d need to get his master’s in biology before he could make sense of all of it. Still, he scrolled through the pages. 

 

The writing was dense and academic. Half of the reports were just talking in circles, the authors arguing with themselves about the progress versus potential risks. Some project failed miserably, but others produced decent crops that were hardy and fed areas that had been hit by famine. But that was just the plants. 

 

The animals were another story. Even though these studies weren’t done by Stark Industries, FRIDAY had helpfully included them for background information. Scientists had managed to make rabbits that glowed in the dark, salmon that grew faster than normal, and even super-muscled pigs. Peter felt his stomach turn as he read these reports. 

 

He slammed his laptop shut, put on his suit, and jumped out the window. 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Swinging above the city always cleared Peter’s head. School, bullies, and all his normal-life problems just melted away the moment he dropped off a skyscraper. His favourite moments were those glorious few seconds of free-fall, from when he let go of one line before he threw another. 

He muted Karen for the night. Logically, Peter knew she did not have feelings. That didn’t stop him from feeling slightly guilty about the whole situation. It was like hanging up on a friend. But he didn’t need the chatter in his ear tonight, he just wanted to feel the air rush against his head. He wanted to hear the city, unfiltered. Before he had the suit, this unplugged version of web-slinging was all Peter had. Back then, he wasn’t really used to everything. All it took was a flash of light, a loud screech, or anything slightly out of the ordinary to overwhelm his sense. 

 

Over the last few months, Peter worked to control his sense. The new suit helped, for sure, but it wasn’t only that. It was just  _ better  _ now, he could even go into the band room without his ears bleeding. Well, Andrew Johnson’s french horn  _ did  _ make Peter’s head hurt, but that was more of an Andrew thing than a powers thing. 

 

Peter flipped and landed on the ledge of a building. He wished there was a gargoyle on the edge of the building, but unfortunately, New York seemed to favour that style less and less each year. Instead, he swung his legs over the edge and listened. Taxis honked and a steady stream of traffic wove through the streets. 

 

Peter cocked his head. A block uptown, he could hear glass shatter. Peter stepped off the ledge and fell for half a second. He slung a web onto the building and glided through the night. 

 

In the alley, a man with a scraggly blonde goatee stood outside a shattered store window. His arms were crossed and his sunk green eyes jittered around the alley. Peter crawled onto the building, making his way across the side until he was directly above the nervous man. He sent a web to the fire escape above him, and slowly lowered himself until his head was level with the man. The thug’s eyes stayed fixed on the street.

 

Peter cleared his throat. “What are we looking for,” he whispered to the man. 

 

The man yelped and stumbled forward. “Jake!” He yelled inside the shop, “We’ve been made!” He scrambled for something in his coat pocket, but Peter shot a web to stop him before he could reach it. 

 

“Word of advice,” Peter said as he hit the nervous guy with another shot, “Don’t use your real names. It’s way easier if you just make something up.” The guy opened his mouth to quip back, but Peter hit him with a mouthful of webs before he could say anything. 

 

The man still tried to yell at Peter, probably threatening him in some way. Peter chuckled. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t take you seriously. You got a little something in your teeth.” 

 

Peter didn’t get to see the man’s reaction, though. Another guy, a bulkier guy, rushed out of the store holding a taupe bag with a few twenties sticking out of the top. Peter knelt over, laughing. “I didn’t think anyone actually used  _ those  _ bags to steal money. You’re just missing a big dollar sign painted on the front, and then you’d really be the perfect robber.”

 

The man growled. “Shut up, freak.” He lunged at Peter, who sidestepped the attack with ease. 

 

“No, no, but seriously. I thought you guys used, like I dunno, duffle bags or something now. Or even a briefcase. It’s not like I’m an expert on the robber industry standard or anything.” The gruff man swung a right hook at Peter, but he but too much momentum into his throw. Peter ducked and kicked his legs out. The man toppled forward, into the gutter. “Guys, come on. I’m just trying to help your reputation here. I don’t want the other criminals making fun of you at the big annual robber conference. I like to look out for the little guy.”

 

The bulky guy heaved himself to his feet and staggered. “Do you  _ ever  _ shut up, you bug?” 

 

Peter shrugged, “It’s weird, you know, you’re the third person to ask me that  _ tonight. _ ”

 

He grunted in reply and stared at his partner, who was wide-eyed and still stuck to the wall. He spat on the ground and shuffled toward Peter. 

 

Peter stepped back. He liked to quip, but he wasn’t an idiot. It was time for Mr. Muscles to be webbed up and the police to be called. If he let it go any longer, the guy might seriously hurt himself doing something dumb. “Well, this has been fun, but I do have other places to be tonight. So I think it’s time to wrap this up.”  Peter flung a web around the man’s left hand and anchored it to the fire escape. “I’ll take this off your hands, too.” Peter tugged the bag of cash easily from the guy’s hand. 

 

“You’re unnatural, you know that?” The guy spat at Peter. Peter froze. “You’re just a freak who belongs in a sideshow act.”

 

“T-that’s just rude,” Peter said, his voice trembling more than he would’ve liked.

 

“I mean it. You’re not human. You belong in a cage somewhere, not in public.”

 

Peter felt his stomach roll and twist into a knot. He leaned back, away from the man. How did he know? If random people on the streets could sense Peter’s unnaturalness, maybe he really  _ should  _ be away from society. He could find a nice little cave, somewhere in the mountains, and spend the rest of his life -

 

The man’s right fist collided with Peter’s nose. An audible crunch broke through the night, and Peter staggered back in surprise. His nose burned with a pain that spread through his face. A steady stream of blood trickled over his mouth and caught in the front of his mask. Peter tied up the man’s free hand, cursing that he hadn’t taken care of it sooner. He got lazy, careless, and distracted. He was lucky it was only a punch, nothing worse.

 

Peter rolled up the front of his mask and spat the blood out of his mouth. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to staunch the flow. “Karen,” he said. 

 

The display in the eyes of the mask lit up. “Yes?”

 

“Call the police and tell them there was a robbery here.”  

 

“Of course, Peter. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

 

Peter sighed. “Can you plot the quickest route to Stark Tower?”

 

* * *

 

 

When Peter swung onto the side of the tower, Karen informed him that Tony Stark was already waiting in the med bay. Peter didn’t ask how Mr. Stark knew. Instead, he climbed around the building and tapped on the window. “Hi Mr. Stark,” he said and gave a little wave. 

 

Mr. Stark cracked open the frame. “Get in here kid. What the hell.”

 

Peter jumped and pulled off his mask. He scrunched his face and wiped the crusted blood away. “It’s fine really. I just didn’t want to heal all wonky, you know?”

 

Tony shook his head. “No, no. You don’t get to just brush this off,” he said and guided Peter into a chair. “FRIDAY, take a facial scan and print a cast, m’kay?” He turned back to Peter, who was clearly uncomfortable and holding his head still. Tony leaned against the wall and frowned at Peter. His eyes were rimmed by dark bags. Little tuffs of hair stuck in every direction, tousled by sleep. Or lack of sleep. 

 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. I’ll be out of your hair right away, I promise.”

 

“No. You are already very much in my hair so you might as well explain yourself.”

 

“Come on, there were at least three better comebacks to that. You gotta work on your game,” Peter said. His words fell flat. 

 

“This isn’t a joke. A few hours ago, you called me looking for homework help, and then you show up looking like  _ this?  _ If you’re ever in over your head, you call for backup. You know that.”

 

“I promise, I wasn’t out of my depth. It was only two guys and they didn’t even have weapons. just got… distracted.”

 

“You can go toe to toe with Captain America, but I’m supposed to believe some random robber managed to do that,” Tony said and gestured at Peter’s nose and sprouting black eyes. 

 

Peter shrugged. “It was a lucky punch.” The machine at the edge of the room beeped. Peter opened it and took out the little nose cast designed for him. He stuck it on his nose and wiggled it into place. “Thanks for this Mr. Stark. Really. But, uh, how long do I have to wear this?” He looked in a mirror and poked it. 

 

“I dunno kid. Couple hours, give or take. Hard to tell with your healing factor.”

 

Peter fell quiet. “If a normal person broke their nose, how long would they have to wear something like this?” 

 

“A week or two, I think, but that’s not the point of this discussion.”

 

Peter didn’t reply. He sat on a black leather waiting chair and twisted his mask in his hands. Flecks of blood spotted the front of his uniform, but the swelling in his nose had begun to die down. “But it kinda  _ is  _ the point. I’m  _ not  _ normal. I heal fast, all my senses have been in overdrive for the past year, my metabolism has gone crazy, and I freaking stick to walls. It’s just too weird. ”

 

Tony sat down next to Peter. His face softened and the anger melted away from his voice. “And when has that ever mattered? Yeah, no duh, you’re different. But that means you get to do the whole Spider-Kid thing.” Peter didn’t reply. “Come on kid, you know you can talk to me.” 

 

“I know,” Peter said, “but it’s just kinda, well, it’s so  _ stupid!” _

 

“Whatever you’re worried about, it’s not stupid. All that shit we worry about might not make sense, but it’s far from stupid.”

 

Peter stared at his mask and turned it over in his hand. “The robber called me a freak. And normal - if it was just any other day - it wouldn’t have bothered me. Those guys throw subpar insults all the time. But earlier, when I was out with Ned and MJ, we walked past this - this  _ rally.  _ People were protesting GMOs.” He tossed his head back and sighed. “I didn’t even know that was an issue! But that guy just got to me, I froze up, and then he really did land a lucky punch.” 

 

“So that’s the real reason you wanted all that research.” 

 

Peter nodded in reply. “You see - the thing is Mr. Stark -  _ I’m a GMO.”  _

 

Mr. Stark put his hand on the kid's arm, stopping Peter’s nervous hands from twisting his mask further into a knot. “Peter. You’re a human being. Not a GMO.” 

 

Peter sniffed and wiped at his red eyes. It was too late: he was too tired to deal with this. “I know, I know. But there’s just such a big grey area around genetics. I don’t know what’s wrong or right anymore.”

 

“There’s rarely ever a clear line between wrong and right. It doesn’t matter if you’re talking about science or people. The world just doesn’t work that way. Sure, some companies have done some shady business with GMOs, but others have helped a lot of people with their inventions”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes. We can look more into it tomorrow, but right now, you need sleep, capiche?” 

 

“I’m not  _ that  _ tired,” Peter protested, holding back a yawn. His eyelids were heavy; he realized how comfortable and warm it was in Stark’s building. 

 

“There’s a spare room down the hall, and on your left. Spare clothes in the top drawer and fresh towels in the bathroom. I’ll text May - tell her you’re staying here tonight.”

 

“Thanks for having my back, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, “even if it is weird and genetically modified.”

 

Mr. Stark clapped him on the shoulder. “Just don’t go sprouting any extra arms on me anytime soon, okay?”

 

"Hey," Peter chuckled, "I promise nothing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to learn more about GMOs? Check out this video by Kurzgesagt: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TmcXYp8xu4  
> ~The more you know~


End file.
